


Better than fireworks

by Isidar_Mithrim



Series: Hinny [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas at the Burrow, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isidar_Mithrim/pseuds/Isidar_Mithrim
Summary: It’s going to be his first Christmas without the Dursleys, and Harry can’t express how grateful he is for Ron inviting him to the Burrow.The fact that Ginny will be there too is just a very welcomed addition...{Written for the '2019 Harry/Ginny Incognito Elf' promoted by the Harry and Ginny Discord}
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Hinny [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510091
Comments: 35
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Runningtwiceasfast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runningtwiceasfast/gifts).



> Hello there! :)  
> Sorry for the long notes, but this time they’re (mostly) a must!
> 
> First of all, this is the first chapter of my fic for the **2019 Harry/Ginny Incognito Elf** on the 'Harry and Ginny Discord'! For now I’ve only written the first two.  
> My secret match was **RunningTwiceAsFast** , who asked for a story with romance fluff, possibly in an AU setting ^^ I’m very glad that you liked it! <3
> 
> Now, I’ve never written an AU before this one and in general I don’t write much romance nor fluff – let along romance fluff XD – so this was an interesting challenge for me!  
> The AU aspect leads me to check way too many things and to think of way too many backgrounds (usually the most useless XD), and keeping the characters IC in a different universe was tougher than I anticipated, but I hope you'll enjoy the result! ^^
> 
>  _Thanks_ :  
> to Dusk for organising the Incognito Elf, having infinite patience and betaing the first two chapters of this story  
> to the whole Hinny Discord community for being always super helpful with all my questions (about English and other cultural stuff)  
> to fightfortherightsofhouseelves, for allowing me to borrow her joke – I’ll give more detail about it in the end notes :)
> 
> Disclaimer: Starting from the title, I freely quoted several bits from the Harry Potter saga – if you recognise an expression/sentence/content/description, it’s obviously not mine ;)

**Better than fireworks**

A bell dinged when Harry entered, and he only had a fleeting moment to register the bright orange surroundings before his lenses fogged up. For how annoying it might be, it also meant the shop was warmer than outside, and Harry gladly welcomed the change.

He removed gloves, hat, and scarf while his glasses cleared, and when he could finally take a proper look around, he realised there wasn’t much to take in, because the place was far from the splendour of the Puddlemere FC Megastore.

The Cannons shop only consisted of four walls packed with orange stuff and a till in a corner, behind which sat a teenager boy wearing – unsurprisingly – an orange Christmas hat and a matching hoodie. 

The boy gave him a bored nod and looked back at his phone, but Harry didn’t blame him for the lack of consideration. First of all, he would always pick an uninterested shop assistant over an over-enthusiastic one, and secondly, the boy was apparently the sole employee of an otherwise empty Chudley Cannons shop in a secluded area of London. Even if he wasn’t a Cannons supporter, it was already dull enough. 

Well, at least inside the shop it was warmer than outside, plus it didn’t look like a job that put your life in danger, so he had to give him that.

Harry took his time to check out the stuff on the shelfs, savouring the conspicuous absence of nagging assistants and frenzied crowds of clients. Him being the only visitor since who-knew-when, in addition to the lack of Cannons merchandise in all the most renowned sport stores in London or online, said a lot about the infamous lack of enterprising skills of the team managers, but it was nice to get away from the Christmas madness for a while. It was almost like being in a bubble of peace and calm. 

A very orange bubble, but still.

Harry was almost settled on a t-shirt of the Cannons goalkeeper when he heard the bell ring again, followed by a loud thud: the boy must have been so surprised to have two clients at the same time that he had dropped his phone before the till. 

Harry took two steps and bent down to retrieve it. “The screen looks fine,” he said, offering a reassuring smile, but the boy’s gaze was fixed on the entrance, his mouth agape.

When Harry turned, he understood why – again, he couldn’t really blame him, because the girl in front of them was the most gorgeous he had ever met. 

Damn, he had forgotten, or maybe he had never fully appreciated, how beautiful Ginny Weasley was.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, beaming. Before he had any chance to react, she stepped forward, squeezing him in a hug. Harry was so baffled by her sudden appearance and her warm greeting that he only remembered to hug her back when Ginny had already let him go.

A dazzling smile still creased her lips like she was genuinely happy to see him, and her freckled cheeks were reddened by the cold winter.

Harry knew he wasn’t allowed to think it, but she looked utterly adorable, and that thought was enough to make his heart pound.

He should have really, really stopped staring at her. 

“I... what... what are you doing here?” he blurted out.

Despite his stammering rudeness, Ginny kept grinning. “Oh, you know, I just fancied a tour into a pumpkin,” she said with pretended casualness. “I hope you’re here for the same reason, because I’m not sure I could stomach it if Ron’s doomed passion for the Cannons has rubbed off on you.” 

“Oh, no, it hasn’t. So, er... don’t worry. Your stomach is safe.” 

“Thank God,” said Ginny, raising her eyes toward the ceiling, her hands joined before her as if in prayer. “I knew you were one of the good guys.” 

She winked, taking off a big rucksack that Harry hadn’t even noticed. He rushed over to grab it, but Ginny jerked away, glowering at him.

“You’re very chivalrous,” she said with a dry tone, her smile gone, “but I’ve carried it until now by myself, did I?”

Harry withdrew his hands at once, feeling his stomach plummeting. “Of course! I didn’t want to imply... I mean, I know you’re totally capable of carrying it yourself, being an athlete and all, I just thought…”

Ginny kept glaring at him even while removing her scarf, hat and gloves, and Harry got desperate. 

“I just wanted to... you know, do something nice... since... er... since it’s Christmas?” he offered with an uncertain smile and a tentative shrug, resisting the urge to swallow under Ginny’s icy glare. _It’s only the second time you’ve met her and she already hates you. Way to go, Harry._

Ginny lowered her gaze to lay her things on the rucksack, and he awaited with dread for his unavoidable execution. When she straightened up, though, the corners of her lips tugged upwards, and a moment later she was laughing out loud, her brown eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“God, Harry, you should have seen your face!” she said with a bright grin.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and offered her a sheepish smile, feeling a bit silly for taking the bait. “In my defense, you do make ‘chivalrous’ sound like the worst insult on Earth.”

“Well, you should have seen that coming, since you’re hanging out with my brothers all the time,” she teased, shoving him playfully on the shoulder. 

“Trust me, they can’t match your wickedness.” 

Harry bowed his head, and Ginny widened her eyes theatrically, bringing a hand to her chest. “What a chivalrous thing to say to a lady,” she said with a tragic tone, wiping away nonexistent tears. “But I shouldn’t be surprised by your nobility… I’ve heard it all of the time you so bravely saved all those people from a collapsing building.”

Harry groaned. “Of course Ron told you,” he complained, but deep down secretly pleased that his mate had shared that particular story.

Ginny’s dramatic expression morphed into a teasing smirk. “If I recall it well, you almost ended up dead to bring the last two people to safety,” she prodded, clearly enjoying herself. “A very successful catastrophe simulation, if it weren’t for the fact that the first rule of a rescuing mission is to _not_ risk your own life, at least according to Ron.”

“How funny,” said Harry, trying to sound annoyed. “He always forgets to mention he was one of the people left to save.” 

“Oh, he did mention it, and very poetically, if you ask me. Something on the line of _that self-sacrificing git risked his bloody neck to save me, the sod. Can you believe it? I wish I didn’t have to play the victim so I could have smacked his head before he did something so reckless,_ ” mimicked Ginny in a scarily accurate imitation of Ron that made Harry laugh with glee.

“Sounds like him, yeah,” he conceded with a huge grin. “Now I’m not so sure he deserves a Christmas present anymore, though.”

“Well, it’s far from me to take my brothers’ side, but on Ron behalf I’d say being a Cannons fan is already punishment enough, _especially_ if you’re redheaded.”

Harry’s reply was cut off by a snort, and only in that moment he remembered the boy lurking behind the till. Suddenly wishing the teen’s phone hadn’t come out so unscathed, Harry glared at him; the boy’s head jerked down, his gaze fixed on the screen yet again.

Ginny looked at Harry with an unreadable expression, and he felt a bit self-conscious for putting the boy in his place.

“So, er…” he mumbled awkwardly. “I... I could really use your opinion about Ron’s present, if... that is, if you don’t mind, of course...”

“Oh, I do mind,” she said with amusement. “But I also need to be sure we won’t buy the same thing, do I?”

His lips twitched. “It would be wise, yes.”

“Then I reckon I’ll concede you the honor, sir,” she said with a faux posh tone, gesturing toward the opposite wall. “Please, lead the way.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Afraid to get lost, m’lady?” he challenged, earning another playful shove.

“I’ve a great sense of orientation, I’ll have you know.”

"Mmm, I’m not sure your word is proof enough...”

“Maybe my word is not, but the fact that I’ve found this godforsaken shop by my own should be.” 

Harry chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

He headed toward the furthest wall, Ginny in tow.

“So, what were you planning to buy?” she asked.

“Well, Fred and George stole my idea to buy him a ticket for the next match,” said Harry, taking the Anderson’s shirt he had left unfolded on a shelf and laying it on his chest, “so I thought about this.”

When Ginny’s smile faded, Harry’s arms fell down and his stomach sank. “... Or maybe not? I know Anderson is the goalkeeper with the worst stats of the League, but that’s true for basically any Cannons players, and Ron likes to play as –”

“It’s not that.” Ginny sounded sincere, but her smile was a bit stiff.

“Er... is it what you wanted to buy?”

Ginny sighed. “No,” she admitted, shaking her head. “It’s a really nice idea, actually, but... well, truth is... and don’t you dare tell Ron I told you so, but... there’s no way he can afford something similar for you, and –”

“I don’t expect him to!” Harry hurried to explain, terrified that Ginny might think something like that of him. “Really, he’s already made me the greatest gift possible inviting me over for Christmas, I’d be totally fine with just that!”

Ginny laid a hand on his arm, and his heart fluttered in anticipation. “I know you would,” she said earnestly. “But... Ron might feel a bit awkward if you buy him something that he can’t match.”

“Oh,” murmured Harry. “I... I hadn’t thought of that…” 

He was feeling a bit guilty for not taking it into consideration. He was obviously aware that Ron was a bit sensitive around money, not coming from a rich family and being the only one of his many siblings without a proper salary or a scholarship, but that was actually one of the main reasons Harry had decided to spare neither effort nor expense for Ron’s present. 

“It’s ok.” Ginny gave a gentle squeeze to his arm, before letting it go. “Luckily for you, I’m always happy to help a damsel in distress,” she added with a lighter tone.

In different circumstances, Harry would have found that comment quite funny, but he couldn’t help thinking about the other main reason he wanted to buy that shirt. He pulled it up and looked at it with longing, imagining Ron’s grin while wearing it, picturing how badly it would clash with Ron’s ginger hair. 

“It’s just… I’ve never really had someone to buy Christmas presents for before, and...” 

Harry trailed off when Ginny’s eyes grew big in bewilderment. He hadn’t truly realised what he was admitting out loud, and he felt his face heat up. He busied himself in messily folding the shirt, then he shoved it back in its place and reached the top shelf to grab an orange hat with the Cannons logo. “I’ll take this one,” he mumbled, carefully avoiding Ginny’s gaze, too afraid to read pity in her features. 

He had already stepped toward the till when Ginny spoke up.

“You know what?” she asked, her tone firm.

Harry took a deep breath before looking back at her, and he felt relieved to recognise determination in her features. 

“Forget what I told you, you should buy the shirt,” she said briskly, taking it back from the shelf. “Ron might feel a little self-conscious about it at the beginning, but he’ll love it.”

Harry swallowed. “Are you sure?”

She pressed the t-shirt against his chest “Positive. He’s lame like that,” she said with a smirk. 

Harry chuckled, amazed by how endearing Ginny could make her insults sound. “Okay, then.” He took the shirt from her hands. “You’ve sold me.”

“Of course I have,” she said with smugness, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulder. “But joking aside,” she added more seriously, “Ron’s yearned to own a Cannons official home shirt since forever, and he’ll be thrilled to wear it at the match. Plus, _I_ want to be the one to buy that hat, and I’m ready to walk over your dead body to have it.” She stretched out her hand, an impish smile on her lips. “Give it to me now, and I may let you live.”

Harry crossed his arms, holding the shirt in one hand and the hat in the other. “You do realise there are tons of identical hats on that shelf, right?” he teased, putting his hands behind his back when Ginny jerked forward in a lousy attempt to grab the hat.

“I do,” she said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “But I happen to want that one.” 

“Mmm, I see. Any particular reason, beyond being too short to reach the others?”

“Hey!” exclaimed Ginny, smacking his arm. “That wasn’t chivalrous at all!”

Harry shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. “I guess that’s the downside of degrading me to damsel in distress,” he said matter-of-factly. “And yet here you are, beating me up and threatening to kill me.”

“Threatening to walk over your dead body,” corrected Ginny, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously. “I’ve never said anything about killing you by myself – I’d obviously persuade the boy to do it for me.” 

Harry shot a glance at the assistant, who hastily jerked his head down for the umpteenth time. 

“I bet it’d work,” muttered Harry, feeling oddly annoyed.

“Then I hope you’ve brought your handcuffs, Future Officer Potter,” she said with a smirk. 

Harry rolled his eyes emphatically, but he had to bite back a smile. “I’m sure you remember we’re not allowed to have cuffs until the second year of training.”

“You know, now that you mention it...” She frowned in the fake effort to recall the scene. “I do remember Fred and George commenting on it once or twice...” 

Harry grinned, because he had a clear memory of the twins teasing Ron about it – it had been Ginny to naughtily suggest that Hermione was going to be the most disappointed, though, and Harry had never seen somebody flush as quickly as Ron had done that evening. 

“I reckon Fred and George were in good company in commenting,” he said, amused. 

“Is that a compliment?” asked Ginny with cheek. “Because flattery will get you nowhere, until you give me my hat.”

“And after that?” he wondered out loud. A moment later he realised with horror what he had just implied, but to his greatest relief Ginny had apparently enjoyed his retort, because she was smiling under her lifted eyebrows.

She poked his shoulder. “And after that I may consider restoring your knighthood.”

Harry brought a hand to his chin, as if contemplating the offer. “Well, it seems like a legit exchange, all things considered,” he agreed. “I do like to be called sir.”

Ginny laughed with mirth, and even if Harry wasn’t sure if she was laughing at the joke or at him, he couldn’t help but feeling cheerful for the achievement. On a whim, he pushed the knitted hat on her head until it covered her eyes. 

“Eww! Keep that color off me!” she said with outrage, taking it off. She smoothed her hair, making them dance around her shoulders. “There are two very precise reasons why I’m a Harpies fan, for your information, and they’re called _green_ and _gold_.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow, amused. “I thought you liked it because it’s the only team with a female coach.”

“Nah, Gwenog Jones is just a nice addition,” she joked with faux cockiness, waving a hand dismissively. “Picking a team with colors that go with your complexion is _way_ more important.” 

“Says the girl that picked the Nottingham Trent University and their very pink shirt…” 

“Says the girl that helped the NTU winning the universities league wearing that shirt," retorted Ginny with a cheeky smile. “I don’t think the Cannons can say the same, and anyway, I definitely wear pink better than Ron wears orange.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Harry, feeling bold. “He’ll look hideous with this shirt and this hat.”

“He will, and that’s what makes them even more fitting,” said Ginny with delight. “Shall we go to the till, before getting merciful second thoughts?”

Ginny paid twelve pounds for the hat, and Harry felt his neck growing hot when the boy asked him five times as much. He tried to hide the content of his swollen wallet, not sure how much Ron had told Ginny about him. Having already had a delicate discussion concerning money, Harry really didn’t want to give her more reason to think he was a spoiled brat; after all, he had gained access to his parents’ fortune not even five months ago.

Thankfully, she was kind enough not to make comments on the matter, busying herself with putting her hat, gloves and scarf back on while he paid. 

When Ron’s present was secured in its shopping bag, Harry bundled up, eyeing Ginny’s heavy rucksack with worry. 

“You’d call me a self-sacrificing git if I’ll offer to carry it, right?” 

Ginny grinned. “I’d call your worst.” She put the rucksack on with remarkable ease before adjusting the shoulder straps. “And do try to keep up with me,” she added with a wink.

If Harry hadn’t been a goner since the moment he had seen her playing, he would definitely be by now. 

With an unspoken agreement, they began walking towards the closest underground station, which wasn’t close at all for the city standards.

“Are you headed back to the college?” asked Ginny, her voice a bit muffled by her woolen scarf.

“Oh, er… no, actually.” He threw an uncertain glance at Ginny. “I wanted to buy something for your parents…” 

“Don’t worry, they’ll tell you you didn’t have to, but they’ll appreciate it,” she said reassuringly. “Do you already have an idea, or I can tempt you again with my infinite wisdom?” 

Harry couldn’t see much of her face because of the scarf, but her beautiful eyes were sparkling with amusement, and he could swear Ginny was smiling. 

“Yeah, sure. Fred and George have already given me a couple of suggestions, but be my guest.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You went to _Fred and George_ for advice?” 

“Er... I see where you’re coming from, but Ron wasn’t helpful because he thinks I shouldn’t bother, and I didn’t have any clue of what to buy, so…”

Ginny stopped walking, looking at him dead in the eyes. 

He swallowed. “If this is an attempt to make me beg for your help, it’s working quite well...”

Ginny chuckled, resuming her steps. “Let’s hear those suggestions, then.”

“Great!” he said with gratitude, keeping up the pace. “So, for your mum, a cook book – _Julia &Juliet _ or something like that, George texted me all the details.”

Ginny blinked, taken aback. “I haven’t heard of it, but… it actually sounds like a good idea, and an unexpectedly accurate one,” she admitted.

“Yeah?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” nodded Ginny, and he was sure she was smiling again. “What about my dad?”

“Some Sleekeazy hair potion they said he loves.” 

“Harry...”

Ginny’s voice sounded odd, but not seeing her whole face, Harry wasn’t sure why.

“What?” he asked, alarmed.

“That’s also a lovely idea...”

Harry breathed in relief. “Thank God,” he said. “For a moment I thought you hated it.” 

“... if it wasn’t for the fact that my dad is practically bald.”

Harry had barely the time to process what she had just said before Ginny started chortling, and this time he had no doubt: she was definitely laughing _at him_. 

He found it utterly intoxicating, and he couldn’t help but laugh alongside her.

“No offense, Ginny, but I’m afraid I’ll have to retract my statement about you being more wicked than Fred and George. I clearly underestimated them.” 

“No offense taken, because I clearly overestimated _you_! I can’t believe you fall for that too!”

“They were very serious and convincing!”

“Yeah, that should have been a massive red flag,” she teased. “But don’t worry, Dad would have found it funny, and apparently Fred and George were at least gentle enough to give you a proper advice for my mum’s present.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “How very kind of them.” He knew he would be entitled to hold a grudge, but he was actually quite impressed by the trick they had pulled at his expense. 

He suspected Ginny’s enjoyment might have something to do with it.

When she took him by the arm, a mischievous glint in her gaze, his heart throbbed. “I can’t wait to see their faces when Dad unwraps your present to find the perfect gift.”

Harry had to admit the prospect was quite appealing, if it wasn’t for a little problem. “I have no idea of what he likes, though.”

“Luckily for you, I do,” she said with a wink. “I’m headed to Notting Hill to look for my last gifts – you could join me, if you want.”

He looked at her in bewilderment. He couldn’t believe she was offering _him_ that much, despite knowing him so little. “I… are you sure?” he asked, not daring to trust his own ears. 

“Of course,” she said, her voice warm.

“Well… I… It’s really… thank you so much, Ginny…”

“Shut up, it’ll be nice to have some company.” She elbowed him gently. “Especially the one of a knight in shining armor,” she added with the playful tone Harry had learned to associate with her smirk.

He grinned, amazed by his luck. “Is it your twisted way to prompt me to carry your rucksack, m’lady?”

“Ask it again, _sir_ , and I’ll have to put your dead limbs in it, alongside those of my too chivalrous former suitor.”

“Ouch. Point taken,” promised Harry, but his grin didn’t falter one bit.

Harry’s stomach rumbled, when he spotted a deli a bit further down the road.

“We could have lunch there,” he suggested hopefully, gesturing toward the shop.

“Oh.” There was a slight hesitation in Ginny’s voice. “I’ve already got a couple of corned beef sandwiches in my bag, actually, but don’t hold back on my account.”

Her tone had been casual on the surface, but it felt a bit strained, and after a moment Harry realised why. He cursed himself: of course she couldn’t afford to buy her lunch when she still had to purchase other Christmas gifts. How was it possible that he had been penniless for most of his life and still kept making these gaffes? 

When they stopped in front of the deli, Harry lingered before the entrance. He had to make it up to Ginny, but he had no idea how. He only knew that buying her lunch was _not_ the right way to do it.

“Go ahead, I’ll wait for you outside,” prompted Ginny gently, and Harry felt even guiltier.

He took a deep breath, and then he made a decision he hoped he wasn’t going to regret.

“Give me one minute.” 

He walked toward the grocery store nearby and bought a vast assortment of Ron’s and his preferred sweets (including an obscene amount of Mars Bars, his personal favorite) and came back to Ginny, waving the shopping bag in the air. “Swap you for some of these?” 

Ginny blinked her eyes in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Deal,” she said, stretching her hand.

Harry hurried to shake it, feeling incredibly relieved.

In the desolation of the Cannons shop, Harry had almost forgotten it was the last Saturday before Christmas, but inside the tube station it became blatant. He had naively imagined eating side by side during the ride to Notting Hill, but the trains were almost too crowded to enter, let alone sit down.

They decided to take possession of a bench to eat their way through the food, and Harry soon realised that Ginny’s sweet tooth easily matched her brother’s. It was a bit odd to share with her something that had become a bit of a ritual between Ron and him, but it also had a domestic, familiar appeal, despite the very public environment. It felt right and nice and pleasant, in a way that made his chest swell with a warm, aching affection.

After too many sweets to count, they eventually forced themselves to get into the tube, and when Ginny grabbed his arm for support, Harry didn’t mind at all.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ginny calling Harry “a damsel in distress” is the idea I borrowed from **fightfortherightsofhouseelves** , and specifically her fic _life, interrupted_ , a Hinny college AU that you should definitely read if that’s your thing!  
> I was joking around the chivalrous thing and it was too fitting not to use it ;)
> 
> At the end of the whole story I’ll share more details about the characters’ backgrounds, but in the mid time, here are the true references in the first chapter:  
> \- the Puddlemere FC Megastore is a reference to the Chelsea FC Megastore  
> \- the Nottingham Trent University women football team has really won the BUCS 2018-2019 league, and they really wear pink shirts. Good job girls! ([BUCS score 2018-19 (Women Football)](https://bucscore.bucs.org.uk/Knockout.aspx?id=2036&sport=Football); [Women Football at NTU](https://www.ntu.ac.uk/sport/get-involved/sports-clubs/sport-clubs/pitch-and-field-sports/football-womens))
> 
> Last but not least, thank you so much for reading!  
> Feel free to drop any feedback, suggestion, correction about the story or the translation, opinion about headcanons and so on ^^  
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://isidar-mithrim.tumblr.com).


	2. Chapter Two

It is said that shopping with a woman is a rather dull experience, but despite the cold and the crowd, Harry was having the time of his life.

The general mood was quite frenetic, but the shops had a vibrant, sparkling vibe that Harry found quite alluring. He had always spent Christmas in Privet Drive, and the contrast couldn’t be more obvious: whereas in Little Whinging everything was tidy, with evenly spaced strings of lights and a perfectly trimmed Christmas tree placed in the exact center of the town square, here ruled chaos in a crazy spiral of colours, lights and rumours. 

They walked up and down Portobello Road, bantering and chatting and trying on hideous clothes. Ginny enacted a new character for every outfit, nailing each and every accent with disarming ease, and the warm and cosy ache that had swelled in Harry’s chest kept growing and growing.

He felt so giddy that he would have probably forgotten the main reason he was there, if it wasn’t for Ginny: she had planned to go to Notting Hill because her father loved vintage objects, and with her help, Harry picked a beautiful old telephone (apparently the kind of item Mr Weasley was most fond of), a silly gift for Hermione (which was actually meant to take the mickey out of Ron), a Christmas bib for Fang (who had the bad habit of drooling everywhere) and a pair of suspenders for himself that he was probably never going to use, but that Ginny had been very enthusiastic about.

On her part, Ginny bought a retro coffee mill for her parents, a pair of weird, radish-like earrings for a certain Luna (her best friend, that Harry was apparently going to meet during his stay at the Burrow), and an Indiana Jones fedora for Bill, the archeologist brother. 

Since Ginny had bought all the other presents in Nottingham and Harry had already picked Fred’ and George’s at the Puddlemere FC Megastore, they only had to find the book for Mrs Weasley before calling it a day. 

When Ginny suggested going to the bookshop featured in that famous Notting Hill movie, his heart went out of control. _It’s just a bookshop_ , he told himself, taking a deep breath. _There’s nothing romantic about it._ _It’s not like there are a hundred bookshops around here_.

It didn’t work. Not only did his heart not cooperate, but his mind sent him fragments of a very corny fantasy involving a red-headed damsel in distress, a knight in shining armor, and a cheesy declaration of undying love.

Harry shut his eyes, trying to cast the fantasy away. _She’s your best mate’s sister,_ he hissed to his brain. _She’s out-of-bounds, and way out of your league._

“Everything all right?”

Harry almost jumped at Ginny’s soft words, feeling like she had caught him having a far naughtier fantasy than the one he was actually imagining. His face grew hot with embarrassment, and he adjusted his scarf to make sure it covered his burning cheeks. “Er, yeah, fine,” he said, swallowing. “Just feeling a bit cold.”

“Must be the shining armor,” teased Ginny, and Harry found himself grinning despite the lingering awkwardness. “But you’re right, it’s starting to get colder. We should grab a hot drink after finding your book.”

Harry jerked his head towards her, incapable to hide his surprise. “Really?” 

Ginny shrugged casually. “Yeah.” Was he imagining the sparkle in her eyes? “Ron would become unbearable if you freeze to death on my watch.” 

_Ron would become unbearable if he knew you’ve been thinking about his little sister for a month,_ Harry told himself, but he couldn’t help smirking at Ginny. “Can’t risk that, can we?” 

“God, absolutely not,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “He’s already a pain in the arse as it is.”

“I’ll make sure to let him know you said that.” 

She put on an indignant expression. “That’d be high treason!” 

“Or maybe it’d be high treason _not_ to tell my best mate what his sister really thinks of him…”

_Or what you really think of his sister… Fuck._

“I – Shit. I guess you have a point.”

Harry shouldn’t have felt so smug for rendering her speechless, but damn if he wasn’t proud. He nudged her playfully. “I’ll submit the matter at the next round table rendezvous, don’t worry. I bet Merlin will say I’m right.” 

“Don’t be so pleased with yourself, Sir Prick, or I might reconsider walking on your dead body.”

“I happen to be very hard to kill, for your information.”

“Well, I’d give it a try. Nothing personal, of course – I just like to stay on the safe side.”

“Understandable,” conceded Harry, nodding his head, “but maybe we can sort it out before it comes to killing?”

“A first blood duel, then?” she asked, pretending to ponder the idea. “Yeah, that might warm you up… at least until you’ll start spilling blood after I’ve stabbed you,” she added, and from her mischievous tone Harry could tell she was smirking behind her scarf. 

“I was thinking more on the lines of a spoken agreement, if I must be honest.” 

“Mmm… let’s hear it, then,” she allowed, waving a gloved hand with faux condescension.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing he was about to play with fire in more ways than one, but also firmly convinced that he owed Ginny that much – that was the official version he was giving himself to justify what he was about to propose, at least.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut, if you’ll let me buy your drink.”

She quirked an eyebrow, making his stomach squirm, but it was too late to pull back. 

“Please,” he said earnestly. “It’s the least I can do.”

Ginny looked at him for a long moment, and Harry held her gaze with trepidation.

“Very well,” she said eventually. “But don’t get used to it,” she added with a slightly warning tone, waving a menacing finger. 

“I won’t,” assured Harry with enthusiasm, hardly resisting the urge to throw a fist in the air while cheering out loud, and trying not to dwell on the implication behind the words ‘getting used to it’.

“Keep your knickers on,” teased Ginny, pointing at a side street on their left. “That’s our turn.”

Harry swallowed when he remembered where they were headed, but in a weird twist of fate they spotted a bookshop called _Books for Cooks_ a few windows ahead of the more famous one. Harry wasn’t sure if being relieved or disappointed, but he had to admit they couldn’t have found a better place to purchase Mrs Weasley’s gift. 

Inside the bookshop Harry removed his gloves and checked the title of the book on his notes, saving for later the memes Ron had sent him on Whatsapp, and hoping Ginny wouldn’t notice that his phone was both brand new and quite expensive. In Harry’s defense, it was his very first phone, and he had yearned to own one since Dudley had received one for his seventh birthday.

The first shop assistant he spotted was sorting books on the shelf nearby; how was it that when you actually needed them they were always busy with something?

Harry stepped closer. “Er… Hi?” he asked with a certain hesitance, not sure if he should disturb him. 

He shouldn’t have bothered, because the assistant didn’t give any signs to have heard him.

“Oi,” said Ginny loudly, startling the guy. Harry felt an ounce of pity for him. “Sorry to interrupt, but we are looking for a book called _Julie and Julia_. Do you know where we can find it?”

“The author is Julia Powell, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Then it should be under the P in the European Cooking section down there,” said the assistant, pointing toward the back of the shop. “Otherwise it probably means we are out,” he added with an apologetic shrug. 

Harry spotted the book in an instant, and took it from the shelf to check it out. “Yes, that’s the one: _Julie and Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously,_ by Julia Powell. _”_

Ginny frowned. “Are you sure it’s a culinary book? Sounds more like a novel to me...”

Harry looked at her with horror, remembering Fred and George had suggested the book. He hastily flipped it to read the description on the back cover. “Nearing 30 and trapped in a dead-end secretarial job, Julie Powell reclaims her life by cooking every single recipe in Julia Child’s legendary _Mastering the Art of French Cooking_ in the span of –”

“Oh God,” said Ginny, pressing a hand on her mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head with vigour. “It’s just… I hadn’t realised it was related to that book about French Cooking. Mum loves it.”

“For real?” asked Harry with surprise, feeling a bit guilty for doubting Fred and George. 

“Absolutely. I couldn’t have thought of a better gift myself.”

“Cool!”

“Almost time for our hot drink, then,” said Ginny, clapping her hands together. 

They had just walked back in Portobello Road when Ginny halted abruptly.

“Fuck,” she muttered. 

Harry immediately stopped at her side, concerned. “What’s happened?” 

“Shit,” swore Ginny, shaking her head. “You’re too bloody good. I thought I could, but I can’t do it.”

“Oh,” murmured Harry, feeling like she had pushed a knife through his heart. He averted his eyes, swallowing hard. He should have seen it coming, he should have known this was meant to happen, sooner or later, because it had been too good to be true. Ginny was a funny, smart, talented and beautiful girl – not to mention that she was _his best mate’s sister._ Of course she didn’t want to have a drink with him (not that it would have meant _something_ anyway, obviously). She had even warned him, hadn’t she? She had told him about her ex boyfriend being too chivalrous, and he had been so stupid to do the same mistake. 

“Harry, I’m sorry, but –”

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice flat, his eyes fixed on the ground. “We don’t have to grab a drink, if you don’t want to.”

Harry had expected Ginny to be relieved by his words, but in a totally unforeseen turn of events, she started laughing out loud, leaning against his shoulder.

“Oh, God, Harry, you really are one of a kind.” She was deeply amused, and that left him even more confused. “I wasn’t speaking about our drink.”

“You... you weren’t?” 

“No, definitely not,” she assured him. “But you know when I told you my mum loves that old French cook book?” 

Harry stared at Ginny, at a loss. “Er… yeah?” he asked tentatively, not sure what he was supposed to say. 

“Well, truth is, she _hates_ it,” said Ginny, delighted. “Fleur gave it to her last Christmas and Mum didn’t take it well _at all_ , since my dear sister-in-law is always complaining about British cuisine being _too ‘eavy._ ” 

Harry needed a moment to process. “So… Hey, wait a minute!” He had suddenly realised the true implications of her words. “You let me buy that book knowing she’d hate it?”

“Oh, it would have been _glorious._ ” Ginny was staring at the distance, as if she was picturing the scene. “Hands down one of Fred’ and George’s best pranks since they’ve left school, but I guess I’m too bloody soft to pull it at your expense.”

Harry kept staring at her, bewildered.

“Let’s go change it, yeah?” said Ginny, her grin unfaltering. 

The second time they got out of the bookshop, Harry was the proud and cheerful owner of _The Great British Bake Off: The Big Book of Amazing Cakes,_ which had been published less than three month prior and was apparently considered the ultimate cake-baking bible.

Purchasing Christmas gifts had proved to be a very satisfying task, but nothing had made Harry feel more elated than the prospect of drinking something alone with Ginny.

He hadn’t dared ask about it again for fear of sounding too pushy, but to his delight and relief, she had taken the matter in her hands, saying she knew a place.

They walked back on Portobello Road, and a few minutes later Harry noticed Ginny laying her eyes on a cramped, steamy little tea shop where everything was decorated with frills or bows. He grimaced, thinking it was the sort of place Aunt Petunia would appreciate, but it wasn’t the right moment to be picky. “Er… is it where you wanted to go?” he asked, pointing at the fogged windows.

Ginny looked at him, her eyes wide. “Harry... you really think that when I suggested a hot drink I meant _tea,_ and in a place like _this_?”

“No!” said Harry, waving his free hand in denial. “No, of course not, but you looked in there, and I thought _…_ ”

She shook her head, her warm eyes twinkling with amusement. “I looked in there because I wondered which kind of people would like a place like this, Harry. _We,_ ” she said, moving a finger between the two of them, “are definitely going to a _pub_ , and we’re definitely going to drink something alcoholic.”

Harry grinned, relieved. “Bold of you to assume I’d prefer a pub. What if I was a sucker for frills and bows?”

“Then I’ll be happy to introduce you to Aunt Muriel, and you can go have tea together. I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say about your hair.”

Harry bit back a smile. “Mmm, sounds like an interesting offer… But nah, I’d rather stick with you.”

“Good,” said Ginny, linking her arm with his. “I reckon it can easily be arranged.” 

They kept walking arm in arm, and no matter how many times Harry told himself that she was Ron’s sister and they were just friends hanging out, he really couldn’t help feeling like this was some kind of date.

* * *

The pub Ginny had in mind was simply breathtaking. Most of the shops of the area had holly wreaths and strings of lights on the doors, but _The Churchill Arms_ had brought Christmas decorations to a whole new level. It looked like it had come out of a card, with a thick line of real, regular-sized Christmas trees for each one of its three floors, all adorned with a spiral of lights and a five-point star at the top. It was exaggerated, impressive, and utterly amazing. Harry stared at it in awe, trying to take it all in at once.

“Cool, right?” asked Ginny, a hint of pride in her voice.

“It’s… wow…”

“I know. I found it with Luna a few years ago, and I was really looking forward to coming back. Thought you might like it.”

“It’s incredible.”

“And wait until you see the inside,” she said with a wink, leading him towards the entrance. “I’m sure you’ll feel at home, _Potter._ ”

Harry didn’t miss the teasing in her tone, but he had no idea what she had meant. Ginny didn’t give him time to ask, though, because she opened the door and stepped in.

The main bar was extremely crowded, noisy, and warm, but as soon as his fogged glasses cleared up, Harry’s gaze was caught by the dozen and dozen of metal pans of different sizes and shapes hanging from the ceiling, giving to the place a cosily messy vibe.

“Recognised some of your relatives among the pottery?” asked Ginny with a smirk, making him snort.

“Only eleven of them.”

She took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair in a mesmerising gesture. “Sounds like you have your own football team, then.” 

“Give me a bit of time and I’ll have them ready to take away your cup.”

Ginny shrugged, unconcerned. “You’re welcome to try, but I’m afraid we’re pretty determined to win the league again.”

“Keep playing as you did against Cambridge and you’ll have no competition,” said Harry wholeheartedly, their playful banter forgotten.

Ginny looked at him with genuine hope. “You really think so?” 

“Of course! You’re amazing. I mean, er, your team is amazing,” he specified hastily, feeling his face heat up. “The whole team is.” 

Ginny didn’t seem upset by his slip up, because she smiled softly at him, her cheeks a bit flushed. A moment later she averted her eyes, staring at the ceiling. “You know my favorite thing about this pub?” she asked, and from her tone Harry knew this time she wouldn’t take the mickey.

“What?”

“It sort of reminds me of the Burrow.”

Harry looked around, taking in the comfy leather chairs, the little round tables, the cushioned stools, the walls filled with frames. “Then I’m going to love it as well.”

“I really hope you will,” she said in a low voice, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling, her tone so earnest that Harry felt his veins pulse. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking at her intently. “Me too.”

She must have sensed his gaze, because she glanced back at him, clearing her throat. “Now come, you’ve yet to see the room in the back. I swear it gets even better.”

Harry suspected with a bit of uneasiness that that was some kind of diversion, but when they walked in the other room he was astonished. There were still dozens of pots hanging from the ceiling above the tables, but they were made of ceramic and contained real plants of many different variants, all with their leaves sticking out to create a thick, messy layer of green that would have probably horrified Aunt Petunia.

“It’s stunning.” 

“It really is,” agreed Ginny, looking around. “Hey, those two are leaving – give me your bags and go grab some mulled wine, I’ll take the booth.”

Ginny was sitting at the round table in the corner wearing her warm Christmas jumper when Harry came back, two cups filled to the brim in his hands. 

He laid his jacket on the back of his chair and took a seat, and after a toast to the fulfilling day of shopping, they finally tasted their well-earned mulled wine.

Harry had never tried it before, but he found it delicious: it heated every bit of him from the inside, and its spiced flavour was rather pleasant.

“So,” he said, sipping more wine. “I’ve been meaning to ask... Do your brothers know you’re already in London? ‘Cause I thought you were supposed to arrive around dinner,” he said, with _thought_ being the understatement of the year: he had secretly looked forward to that evening since the moment he had learnt about it.

Ginny scoffed. “They obviously don’t _,_ ” she said, rolling her eyes. “And make sure it’ll stay that way, or I won’t hear the end of it.”

“Don’t worry,” promised Harry, zipping his mouth. “We never met.” If part of him felt guilty for keeping all this from Ron, another part secretly wished to tell him, hoping against hope that Ron would be glad – grateful, even – to know Harry had spent the whole day protecting his little sister (not that she needed much protection, but Harry wasn’t going to tell Ron that).

“How unfortunate,” said Ginny, quirking her lips in amusement before taking a sip of her wine. “I’m sure it would have been a great day, if only we’d crossed paths…”

Harry knew she was joking, but he felt oddly emotional. He wanted to tell her how much her company had meant to him, but he simply could not find the right words. “Yeah,” he said eventually, his voice a bit hoarse. “It would have.”

She looked at him with a blazing gaze, and Harry felt too exposed all of a sudden. He cleared his throat, staring with great interest at the collection of framed butterflies decorating the nearest wall.

It was Ginny to break the ice. “I hope Ron has already warned you that it’s going to be crazy, back at home,” she said, her tone gentle. 

Harry forced himself to look back at her. “Er, yeah, he did… I’m sorry to impose on all of you, but Ron –”

“Impose?” Ginny was gaping at him. Blimey, she really had nice eyes. “Harry, Christmas at the Burrow is _always_ crazy, and besides, my parents will adore you. Actually,” she added on a second thought, flashing him a mischievous smirk, “it’s _me_ you should worry about. I hope you’re ready for some forced labour, because I’m putting you on decoration duty as soon as we get home.”

“Tsk,” said Harry, acting dismissive, but feeling pleasantly warmed at the idea. “You’re delusional if you think Hermione will let you enslave me.”

Ginny looked at him with smugness. “Too bad that she’s not coming until the 31st, then.” 

“Damn,” muttered Harry, even if he knew it perfectly well since Ron couldn’t stop whining about it. (“Can you actually imagine Hermione _skiing_?”)

Ginny lifted an eyebrow. “Are you going to back out?” 

“Never. I’m a pro at Christmas forced labour,” said Harry with smugness. “My aunt would be thrilled to know someone is carrying on her best traditions.” 

He immediately realised he had said something wrong, because Ginny froze, her eyes wide, her smile gone. 

“Shit, Harry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok,” he hurried to clarify. “Really, it’s fine. It’ll be nice doing it with you, unless you’re planning to flog me while I toil,” he added jokingly, his tone light.

Ginny didn’t seem reassured at all. “Did…” She swallowed. “Did they really…?”

Harry needed a moment to understand what she was referring to.

“Oh, God, no,” he blurted out, shaking his head with vigour. “No, er… I was just kidding about… you know... about the whip thing...”

She stayed silent, and Harry felt the pressing need to fill the gap – to make her understand.

“Really, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about, I promise. I only had to do all the most boring stuff, like wrapping Dudley’s gifts and cleaning up the pine needles around the tree and, yeah... things like that. Definitely no whip involved.” _Just a frying pan once in a while,_ thought Harry _,_ but this time he carefully kept his humor to himself.

Ginny looked at him for a long moment, her expression still wary, and Harry tried his best to appear at ease despite the growing tension in his body, a tension that had nothing to do with the Dursleys.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and put on a cocky smirk. “If you expect I’ll go easy on you just because you shared a couple of teary stories, Potter, you’re wrong.”

Harry let out a relieved breath and sagged in his chair, feeling the tension in his muscles dissipate. “Well, I guess it was worth a shot,” he said with a grin, and Ginny’s amused laugh was enough to make up for all his past Christmases.

* * *

He was about to pull his gloves out of his pockets when Ginny stopped him. 

“Wait,” she said, smiling. “We should take a few pictures before we go.”

“Er… sure,” he agreed, putting the left glove on. 

Ginny laid a hand on his, stopping his efforts (and making his heart flutter). “With your phone, I meant. It’s way better than mine.”

“Oh. Okay.”

In all honesty Harry would have felt more comfortable without the reminder about his excessively fancy phone, but he took it out nonetheless, drawing the usual lightning to unlock the screen. He found a call from Ron, but he made a mental note to ring him later and lent his phone to Ginny. “Er, you should do it. I’m not a great photographer.” 

When Ginny had asked for his phone, Harry had thought she wanted to take pictures of the pub, but to his surprise it turned out she wanted the pictures to feature _them_ as well.

He wasn’t very used to being photographed and he generally felt quite awkward about it, but as always, Ginny turned it in a heartwarming experience. She smiled and joked and made faces, and when she leaned against him and put an arm around his waist, Harry tentatively laid his own arm over her shoulders.

They walked back to Notting Hill Gate in a slow pace, as they were trying to delay the moment they had to part. It was a bit silly, since they were going to have dinner all together in about an hour, but Harry couldn’t help thinking that things were going to be different with the others around.

He considered going with Ginny, pretending they met on the tube on their way to the twins’ apartment, but he had to go back to college to meet Hagrid, put his gifts away and possibly take a shower.

When they reached the tube station, they lingered in the main hall for a bit more, commenting on their purchases one last time, but eventually they run out of excuses to postpone their goodbyes. 

Harry swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, his voice a bit raspy. “For… everything.”

“Thank _you,_ ” said Ginny, her lips tugged upwards. “For the knightly company, and the drink, and, you know, for not carrying my rucksack.” 

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s been a pleasure keeping my shoulders free.”

“I’m sure they’re very grateful.”

“Definitely more than my hands. Vintage telephones are bloody heavy.”

“Oh, speaking of phones, I almost forgot!” exclaimed Ginny. “I’ve saved my number on yours, so you can send me the pictures.”

“Oh.” Harry was taken aback. He couldn’t believe his luck: not only he had a bunch of pictures of Ginny on his phone (not that he didn’t check her Instagram account on a daily basis when Ron wasn’t looking), but now he also had her _number_ , and without even making the effort to ask for it. He really hoped he hadn’t dreamt it all. “Er, yeah, of course. I’ll send them.”

“Great! Try not to do it when I’m surrounded by my brothers, though – for all they know, my train from Nottingham has just arrived,” she added with a wink. 

For a fleeting moment Harry felt an awful knot at the pit of his stomach thinking about Ron, but his guilt vanished in an instant when Ginny locked her eyes with his, her gaze so intense that his heart thundered against his chest.

He wanted to hug her, to squeeze her tightly in his arms and never let her go, but before he could find the courage to act, Ginny stood on her tiptoes and gave him a soft peck on the cheek.

“Bye, Harry,” she murmured, glancing at him one last time before turning to walk away. 

“Bye,” he whispered back, following her with his gaze, his cheek burning hot. 

Harry soon lost sight of her in the crowd, but he kept staring in her direction for a very long time.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, here’s a list of the true references of this chapter ^^  
> \- All the cooking books mentioned are real (as their summaries)  
> \- _Books for Cooks_ really exists, and it’s really located in the same street of the famous _The Notting Hill Bookshop_ , a bit closer to Portobello Road  
> I imagined Harry buying the gift for Fang at the _Portobello Pet Shop_ , but it didn’t make the cut  
> \- _The Churchill Arms_ pub in Kensington really exists as well, and the description it’s based on real photos. Check here for its amazing Christmas decorations! I think these pictures are only from 2017, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend they’re up this year as well ^^ The pub looks amazing also the rest of the year, anyway!  
> \- The London location of the College of Policing it’s in Old Queen Street (Westminster). I couldn’t find out what this location exactly offers, and if it’s a proper campus or not, but for narrative needs I decided it does, so Harry and Ron sleep there and they have a Christmas break. 
> 
> On the other hand, I’ve no idea where the Cannons shop and Fred and George’s apartment are situated ^^’

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :D  
> Please feel free to drop any feedback, suggestion, correction and so on ^^  
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://isidar-mithrim.tumblr.com) or on the Hinny Discord ;)


End file.
